


To Take This Off My Shoulders

by notpmaHleM



Series: Between The Raindrops [9]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Modern AU, The first meeting between Ice and Fire, or the Dragon and the Wolf if you prefer, prequel for BtR, stubborness and strong wills, trying to ignore attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 02:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15233121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notpmaHleM/pseuds/notpmaHleM
Summary: PREQUEL TO BETWEEN THE RAINDROPSJon Snow arrives at Dragonstone to make an alliance with Daenerys Targaryen. Things don’t go quite as planned and she’s not exactly what he was expecting.





	To Take This Off My Shoulders

**Author's Note:**

> I’m fairly certain I said I wouldn’t write anything smutless again.. I’m a dirty liar (sorry ;)
> 
> By now you’re all used to my atrocious editing skills, horrible sentence structure and blatent over use of commas..
> 
> I love you all for overlooking that and sticking with this nonsense..

 

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

_~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_

 

 ** _Home_ **   
**_By Machine Gun Kelly- X Ambassadors & BeBe Rexha_ **

_Home_  
_A place where I can go_  
_To take this off my shoulders_  
_Someone take me home_  
_Home_  
_A place where I can go_  
_To take this off my shoulders_  
_Someone take me home_  
_Someone take me_

_Look, I didn't power through the struggle_  
_Just to let a little trouble, knock me out of my position_  
_And interrupt the vision_  
_After everything I witnessed, after all of these decisions_  
_All these miles, feet, inches_  
_They can't add up to the distance_  
_That I have been through, just to get to_  
_A place where even if there's no closure, I'm still safe_  
_I still ache from trying to keep pace_  
_Somebody give me a sign, I'm starting to lose faith_

 _Now tell me: how did all my dreams turn to nightmares?_  
_How did I lose it when I was right there?_  
_Now I'm so far that it feels like it's all gone to pieces_  
_Tell me why the world never fights fair_  
_I'm trying to find_

 _Home_  
_A place where I can go_  
_To take this off my shoulders_  
_Someone take me home_  
_Home_  
_A place where I can go_  
_To take this off my shoulders_  
_Someone take me home_  
_(It's been a long time coming)_  
_Someone take me_  
_Home, ho-o-o-o-me_  
_Home, home_  
_Someone take me_

 _Look, I been through so much pain_  
_And it's hard to maintain, any smile on my face_  
_'Cause there's madness on my brain_  
_So I gotta make it back, but my home ain't on the map_  
_Gotta follow what I'm feeling to discover where it's at_  
_I need the (memory)_  
_In case this fate is forever, just to be sure these last days are better_  
_And if I have any (enemies)_  
_To give me the strength to look the devil in the face and make it home safe_

 _Now tell me: how did all my dreams turn to nightmares?_  
_How did I lose it when I was right there?_  
_Now I'm so far that it feels like it's all gone to pieces_  
_Tell me why the world never fights fair_  
_I'm trying to find_

 _Home_  
_A place where I can go_  
_To take this off my shoulders_  
_Someone take me home_  
_Someone take me_

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“So, that’s it?”

Jon glanced up from his email to look at his sister, who’s face was currently pressed against the window in excitement, even though she was trying to pull off indifference with her tone.

“That’s it?” Gendry had no problem letting everyone hear his awed disbelief. “She’s got a fortress on an island Arya. What more did you want?”

“I don’t know, something a little less medieval.”

Realizing his attempt to work would continue to be interrupted, Jon closed his laptop, rubbing a hand over his face as he felt the plane begin it’s descent. He wondered if he was half mad, flying down to Dragonstone, his army forty eight hours behind him, to meet with the Dragon Queen herself, Daenerys Targaryen.

But, what, if anything these past six years of his life, hadn’t been mad? With Westeros being thrown into war, again, half his family gone, he’d had to go, had to see if this Daenerys could break the wheel, as she said she would.

Listening to Arya and Gendry’s good natured arguing, he finally brought himself to look out the window, take in the sight of the rock formations jutting out of the sea, the waves battering and breaking on them, the impressive stone walkway and giant stone building sprawled across it all. It looked fearsome, cold and damp and like part of the island it sat on.

There was a knot sitting in his gut, the guilt of letting his baby sister come along, the bone aching weariness of fighting, just wanting to go home, down to the part he told himself he had beaten, the snapping jaws of the wolf inside of him that craved the bloodshed.

“They say she’s a beauty, your Queen of Dragons.”

Jon buckled up in his seat, jaw clenching as they started to head towards the tarmac that lay across the vast green. One wrong calculation and they’d careen off the cliff and be a fiery disaster in the rocks below.

“She’s not my Queen.” Forcing the words out through gritted teeth, he glared at Tormund. The man had been incorrigible the past week after hearing Arya mention a bit of gossip concerning Daenerys Targaryen’s apparent attractiveness.

_It didn’t matter. They were at war._

“She summoned you like a pet dog, no?”

The wings dipped a brief moment before the wheels touched down, the air releasing rapidly out of his lungs, knuckles white on the arm of the chair. “That’s not…” he paused and looked up at the red haired man. “You’re just tryin’ piss me off, aren’t you?”

“That’s a benefit. No, I’m wondering if the King in the North is going to secure us an alliance.”

Jon rolled his eyes at the waggling eyebrows, tossed his water bottle at Tormund before unbuckling, standing and grabbing his gear while they taxied to a stop. “I’m not here to fuck Daenerys Targaryen, if that’s what you're implying.”

“You could use getting laid.”

A noise of distress left his throat as he turned to look wide eyed at his sister.

“What?” Arya shrugged. “It’s called multitasking. You can, hypothetically, win a war and bang the most beautiful woman in Westeros, so I say go with the gods brother. Maybe you’ll smile more.”

“Can all of you be serious about this. And have a little more respect, please.” Shaking his head in frustration he walked away from them, wondering what in the actual fuck had gotten into everyone as he descended down the ramp of their cargo plane. Talking about this as if they were regressed back to a time of selling women, as if he’d even find her attractive, as if she’d even be interested in him… and _why_ in the seven hells was he even letting them get into his head. There was a plan. Join the north with Daenerys, take back Westeros and then… well, if he survived, go back to Winterfell.

That. Was. The. Plan.

The first thing he noticed was smell of salt filling the air, unaccustomed to his northern nose, the breeze blowing over them, a fine mist warning of an incoming storm. He could see the small entourage waiting for them as soon as his feet hit the asphalt, relief at being on the ground running through him. Taking a deep breath, gathering his thoughts, eying the group waiting for them.

Recognizing Tyrion, he scanned over the other two men, sorting them out as an Unsullied and Dothraki, and with a flash of silver braided down her back, Daenerys Targaryen. She was turned towards her Hand, offering him the view of a pretty profile and at his approach, she lifted her chin, swiveled around to meet them.

Jon almost stumbled.

A quick glance to make sure no one had noticed, his heart giving a lurch, he tried not to stare. He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but this vision with a regal air and a succulent mouth was not it. She looked aloof in manner, the black outfit doing nothing to hide womanly swells and curves that beckoned him. He felt tongue tied and clumsy already. And gave serious thought to turning around and getting back on that plane.

But, she had seen him, the flash of surprise registering in her clear blue eyes and he felt a little vindicated, that at least he had made her give pause. But she shook her head slightly and held out her hand in greeting.

He took it, feeling her pulse jump under his touch as his forefinger trailed her wrist before taking her hand properly, her grip firm.

“Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen.”

Her voice was pleasant, feminine strength and he briefly wondered what it would take to make her lose control over her tone.

”Jon Snow. Glad to make your acquaintance Daenerys Stormborn.”

 

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She proved to be well mannered and hospitable, despite wild rumors of her being wild and unkempt, not that he had believed them, but it was nice to see them proved wrong. They were shown to comfortable rooms, well fed with an array of interesting company. Daenerys sat at the other end of the table, slow to smile, quiet as she studied them, but Jon couldn’t blame her, he did the same from his end. Still, every once in while someone would say something to her and she would unleash a smile, a bright flash that warmed his insides, piqued his interest in purely selfish reasons, caused him to be annoyed and himself and maybe at her.

Despite the comfort of his room, he couldn’t sleep, nerves strung tight, tossing and turning as the hours wore on. Frustration caused him to ball of his fist, thump his pillow, flop back down to stare out the window, watch the night fade.

Morning came, the sun driving off the rain, showcasing the island’s vivid green against the muted grey of the rocks, bright blue of the sky fading into the darker blue of the sea. It was a wonder to his senses after so long at the wall, the north already starting to turn dark and Jon happily drank it in, ignoring his weariness. A well disciplined soldier. A leader used to sleepless nights.

At the quieter affair of breakfast, Daenerys spoke up suggesting they take the morning to explore and he almost refused out of impatience, wanting to get negotiating on the table but he caught the spark of interest on Arya’s face. And felt himself lose some of his stubbornness and agree.

Dragonstone was as commanding as it’s mistress, eye catching and mysterious complete with dangerous edges. So Jon let himself be cajoled by his sister to join her and Gendry, enjoying hearing her easy laughter as they started exploring on the beach.

But soon he couldn’t stand being around them, the couple gently teasing, the adoring look on Gendry’s face, Arya’s goofy smile, setting off an ache inside of him that he didn’t want to think about. So he wandered unnoticed away from the pair, heading to the cliff they had set down on the previous evening.

The glinting Valyrian hides of her helicopters, dragons he’d heard she referred to them as, caught his eye, so different from Longclaw, but yet the same with the familiar ripple as the light caught them. He couldn’t stop his feet moving towards them.

They were an impressive sight, the only ones to touch ground here in a very long time, returned home with their Targaryen pilot, last of their kind.

The pilot in question came into his vision when he went around the smallest of the three, finding her sitting high up on a tail boom, tinkering with a piece on the rotor. He stopped to watch, her brow furrowed in concentration as she tightened something down.

“And how is the tour going?”

He hasn’t realized she’d known he was there, her voice startling him as much as the intensity of her eyes when she turned to look at him. There was curiosity there, a flash of something else and he had the sudden urge to know what that something else was.

“Well, my tourmates are as preoccupied with each other as they are with this place, but I’ve enjoyed it so far. It’s so different from what I’m used to seein’.”

She made a humming noise and looked at the ground before motioning to him. He took the hint, walking close enough and holding up his hand, looking at the distance between them. “How did you get up there.”

There was no answer, she just shuffled back until she was resting on the body of the helicopter, Jon moving with her, holding his breath as she pushed off, sliding down rapidly. He caught her, biting back as groan as he hit soft curves, steadying her as she landed on her feet.

He noted the size of her, small and dainty and he let go quickly, ignoring the sudden flash of want that coursed through him. _What was wrong with him, he didn’t even know this woman._ Moving a careful distance away from her, he worked on calming himself down but not missing the opportunity to study her.

She looked every inch the youthful woman that she was, eyes bright, big smile as she stepped away from the dragon to inspect her work. She was spun silver, a starry night, making him wonder how he was going to be able to concentrate with her within reaching distance.

He needed to distract himself. “How did you come by these?”

The smile on her face stayed, but a haunted look shuttered in her eyes. “They were a gift to me at my wedding.”

A hundred questions came to mind, but they were invasive, the type of questions that would raise his hackles if asked of him, so he picked something he thought might be safer. “Where did you learn to fly?”

She started walking, leaving the dragons, the escaped tendrils of hair whipping around in the breeze. “I taught myself.”

“Impressive.” And he was impressed, knowing that she and her brother had been forced into exile, she had somehow climbed her way back out of it.

“They are the only three left.” Her voice held a hint of pride.

“Aye, I know Robert Baratheon had them all destroyed after the Rebellion. Outlawed the building of more.”

Her smile was devastating when unleashed, the force of it causing his heart to give a traitorous thump. “Well, apparently not all were destroyed.”

“I stand corrected, all he could find.” He gave her a smile back, seen that _something_ flicker in her eyes again. He cleared his throat. “They must be a great advantage when it comes to battles.

She nodded in agreement and the commander in him focused on what they could do, how they could stack the odds with one of those hovering above the army.

For the first time in a long time he could feel hope beginning to build in his chest.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

What he hadn’t understood was how bloody stubborn she would be.

The meeting had started out well, both of them providing general ideas, what hopes they had for a new Westeros, vague numbers of army forces. Everything was starting to line up, Jon could picture it in his mind, scribbling little plans on an old fashioned notebook, when Daenerys spoke again.

“We will put your men under Grey Worm. He is Commander of the Unsullied.”

“What?” In shock, Jon looked up at her, processing what she had said.

“I said—“

“I heard what you said.” He put down his pencil, not quite believing what he was hearing, the audacity she had thinking she could hand over his men like that. “That’s not how this is going to work. They stay under my control.”

Her spine straightened as her eyes narrowed. “Grey Worm will oversee it all.”

“No.”

Her nostrils gave a little flair. “Yes.”

“Now lets-“ Tyrion started to talk, stopped when Daenerys shot him a dark look.

Jon could feel the anger building up in his chest, taste it in his mouth as he ground his teeth together. “I did not come down here to hand my army over to you.”

“Then why?” Her cool tone was starting to heat.

“To work with you, not for you.”

“The north will still be a part of the seven kingdoms, no?” At his nod she bared her teeth. “Then what is the problem?

He wanted to hit something, all of his hopes dashed as if she’d shoved them off of one of her cliffs. _Northern fool indeed._ Instead of answering he pulled out his phone, pushed in a number, locked eyes with her, a battle of wills. “Hey, Flynn, what’s your location?” He listened to the man, not backing down from their staring contest. “I want you guys to stop in Maidenpool. Aye, that’s right. Stop there. There is no point coming any further down. It seems we don’t have an accord after all.”

It was interesting to watch her face go through a few shades of red, before the flush settled high on her cheeks, the pulse ticking in her neck as she stood up. Tyrion stood also, waiting for a moment to interject and he could see Davos’ frown out of the corner of his eye.

_Oh fucking well._

“Just like that, you are going to leave?” It was a statement as much as a question, displeasure obvious in her tone.

“Aye, just like that.” Jon shrugged, climbing to his feet, somehow knowing that the gesture would piss her off even more. “I didn’t come down here to be under your heel Daenerys. I thought we could work together, but that isn’t how you want to run things, so I’m going home.”

“And what will you do there? Wait for Cersei to come get you?” Apparently she had forgotten herself for a moment, the dragon temper letting her splay her hands over the table and lean into them.

Jon mirrored her position, could see the fire burning in her eyes, his own anger and frustration barely checked. “I’m assuming you’ll keep her busy for a while. And while that is happening down here, we’re going to stay up north and prepare for either option coming out victorious.”

That struck a chord, her nostrils giving a flare before she pushed off the dark wood, turned her back on him and went to stand at the window, watch the water churn below. “Then it seems we are done here Jon Snow.”

“Apparently. Nice seeing you again Tyrion.” Disappointment flooded through him. He had let himself build up hope, let himself plan. Been fooled by a pretty smile. He gave a motion with his finger, getting Davos and Arya on their feet and gave one last quick look at Daenerys before leaving, frustration boiling out of his pores.

“Jon, a moment please.”

He sighed internally, motioned for Davos and Arya to keep going before turning back Tyrion, knowing the man was clever with words, partly dreading what he would say, a part of him interested, his selfish curiosity concerning Daenerys not yet satisfied. “This isn’t going to work, so there’s no use tryin’ to convince me otherwise.”

“She needs time to adjust. Most of her life she’s spent under a man’s control, wanted only for what her name brought to the table. Give her a chance. This alliance will be best for us both. Stay. Let her figure out that you are not wanting to take over.”

“And how long is that going to take? I’m sorry for what she’s been through, nobody deserves it. My family didn’t. But that does not mean I’m going to sit here and do as she says until she decides she can trust me.”

“Give me twenty four hours. Stay, enjoy what Dragonstone has to offer. Talk with some of the people here, let them tell you why they follow her.”

This time when he sighed, it was audible, the headache starting to brew behind his temples. “Twenty four hours Tyrion. Not a moment more.”

Everyone was waiting for him in his room, which kept him from a bout of temper, forcing him to tamp down in the childish urge to hit something. Instead he collapsed into a chair, rubbed his closed eyes with a thumb and forefinger. “Tyrion wants us to give her twenty four hours.”

“Do you think she’ll change her mind?”

He looked over to his sister, decided on honesty. “I don’t know. After what just happened, I can’t see it.” He threw his notepad on the end table. “But Tyrion may be right and it’s just a reaction from her. He thinks we should talk to some of her people while we wait.”

“I have.” Davos spoke up from where he was sitting. “While everyone was scurrying around like a bunch of tourists, I spoke with some, including her trusted friend the lovely Missandei of Naath.”

“Besides flirting, did you learn anythin’?

The look he received from was unamused, but then, so was he.

“She freed them. I cannot believe there are still parts of this world that slavery is still allowed. Or was. Now they follow her out of choice, because they believe in her.”

“That’s a pretty speech.” Jon tapped his pencil against his knee. “But you were just in that room with me.”

“The Dothraki call her Khaleesi.” Arya spoke up from where she was propped up at the foot of his bed. “I think that they think she’s magical. She’s a little more heavy handed when it comes to them. They no longer just get to take and force whatever woman they want.”

Jon scrubbed his hand over his face, his mind telling him to leave, his gut telling him to stay. Remembering the last time he ignored his gut, the scar above his heart giving a phantom itch.

_This wasn’t the same._

“Talk to who you can, bring me what you find. And I’ll see if I can talk to Daenerys again.”

 

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He talked to everyone he could, listened to the information that Davos, Arya, Gendry and Sam bright back.

She sounded incredible, kind, just, ruthless. Everything needed to be successful. And obviously intelligent, learning herself, how to be a pilot. Brave. But, Jon had already seen that she was stubborn and had a hard time bending.

He knew what could happen to a leader with those traits. On a personal level.

The indecision kept him mostly awake for another night, body tired, thoughts not slowing down. The wondering if he was being harder on her because he knew he was attracted to her, wondered if he wasn’t being hard enough.

_He wondered what she tasted like. How hot she’d run in the throes of passion. If she’d lose all that haughty exterior she presented about herself. What she’d look like under him, how his name would sound coming off her lips._

Now, even more frustrated, he got up, debating on taking a cold shower, or taking himself in hand, crossed over to the window to look out at the sea. The moon had risen high, bathing everything in a cool light. Fresh air with the bite of salt helped clear his fogged mind and he moved out to the balcony to sit, sort through his thoughts.

He needed this to work. The north needed this to work.

A shadow moved along the rocks, hard honed instincts had his eye catching the movement, recognizing the form, the way she moved. _Too tired to worry about how he could already pick her out in the dark._ Intrigued, he watched her pick her way along a path only she could see, until she found the spot she wanted, hair flashing in the moonlight as she settled to the ground, stared out at the waves.

Apparently she couldn’t sleep either and for some reason the thought of it made him feel a little better. He settled deeper into his chair, let his head roll back and his eyes close, let himself relax just a little bit.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

The sound of the gulls is what woke him up, neck sore from sleeping in a deck chair, mind dull as if he had a hangover. Stumbling back inside to drown himself under the spray of the shower and then deciding that wasn’t working, slid into a pair of shorts and hit the sand.

The dragging footing made his muscles burn, lungs scream, his head clearing as he pushed through it, not exactly sure how far he could go, mostly ignoring the crowd of curious Dothraki women and children that came out to gawk.

Finding a path up through the rocks he took it, doubling down in the terrain, every thought clearing his head except where he was placing his feet. Finally he made it to the top, stopped to greedily gulp in air, looking at his surroundings.

The long stretch of stone stairs greeted him, daunting and grand, having withstood time, the rise and fall of dynasty’s, hurricanes and whatever else the weather tried. It seemed a fitting path for what he realized he was going to do.

He had planned on another shower, another meeting in her council room, staring at her over the impressive map table. Instead he found her on his way up, her eyes flickering over him, curious, that flash in them again before she turned to look back out at the horizon.

Mindful that he was dripping sweat, probably smelled terrible, he moved downwind of her, mimic her position against the railings, fought the urge to look at her, stare at her like some wet behind the ears boy.

“You’re still here.”

“You don’t sound surprised.”

He angled towards her as she shifted, doing the same, her shoulder lifting as an answer. She looked tired, not that it distracted from her beauty, but she looked like she had been in the process of shifting through her own thoughts.

“I’m not.”

“You’ve been talkin’ to Tyrion?”

“He is my Hand.”

“He enjoys talking.”

“We all enjoy what we are good at.”

“I don’t.”

Her head whipped up at his words, eyes searching his face as if she was finally seeing him for the first time. He felt some of the tension leave his shoulders, the flicker of hope that, maybe just maybe this could work.

She inhaled sharply at whatever she seemed to find there. “You are asking a lot of me Jon. I’ve worked very hard to get where I am. I don’t know you well enough to trust you.”

“Daenerys, I am taking the same chance on you, that you are on me.” He fought the urge to put his hand on her arm, surprised that he even _had_ that urge.

There was a quirk of lips, her head tilting in his direction. “You’re right. Shall we start over?”

“That easy eh?”

“Mostly that easy. And I might have also talked to your Davos. He thinks a lot of you.”

Jon felt his cheeks warm, shuffled a bit, scuffing his foot on the ground, staying silent.

“He told me ‘all those hard sons-a-bitches chose him as their leader because they believe in him.”

Her impression of Davos’ accent was well done, causing him to give a snort of amusement even as he shook his head. “There were limited options.”

“Don’t be humble Jon. They chose you to lead them. Be the man they believe you can be.”

It wasn’t said condescending, but meant to inspire and he raised his chin to look over the small but fierce woman in front of him, found his confidence raising back up. Decided he needed to interject some humor, lessen the seriousness of it. “You’re bossy.”

Her laugh was something a man could get addicted to, flowing over him and finding the frozen spots he had long forgot about. He couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it.

“You’d better get used to it, Jon Snow.”

“Aye, I guess I should.”

She was closer than she had been minutes before, close enough to see the little gold flecks in the blue of her eyes and Jon as surprised to see her there, unaware as to which one of them had moved closer. The feeling of something running over him, feeling drawn to her. Suddenly aware that he was still in his running gear he took a step back, making his eyes shift away.

“I’m going to head back up and shower.” He pretended he didn’t hear her sharp intake of breath. “Then, we can meet up again and sort this out?”

“Yes.”

Her face was bright again, making him wonder what exactly Tyrion had said to her. Maybe she could bend. Maybe she’d prove herself to be the woman they all needed.

He turned away, ignoring the knot of _something_ coiling up in his chest, started the climb back up the pathway of stairs.

“Jon.”

He stopped, looking over his shoulder at her.

“I am glad you’re staying.”

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Up next.. a wedding!


End file.
